In the spirit of transparency, you should know that I, personally, am not tired of orange wine. In fact, I’ll probably enjoy a splash of it after writing this. But in recent chatter with fellow wine folk (sommeliers, wine journalists, so on), it’s become clear that a fatigue toward skin-fermented styles is sprouting in cities like Paris, New York City, and Los Angeles. Speculating why anything happens in the wine industry these days seems like a futile undertaking, but if I had to guess, it might be a couple of things.
First, the proliferation of natural wine and its evangelical cadre of drinkers has led to the unflattering perception of orange wine as merely a trend. And second, it’s not uncommon to burn out on a style of wine (I think we’ve all experienced this with rosé at some point in our lives), and perhaps some palates are experiencing this kind of lethargy with orange wine.
I could get on my soapbox about why this approach to winemaking—fermenting white grapes with their skins left on—produces wines that are nuanced enough to drink all year round. I could also dwell on the fact it is literally the most ancient form of crafting wine, not a passing trend. But alas, if your taste buds simply yearn for a change of pace, the styles below still offer the texture and complexity found in the best amber wines around the world.
Alsatian Riesling
When you love wine, meeting someone who’s hyper-specific tastes sync up with your own feels kismet. These were my sentiments upon meeting Claire King, the sommelier at Nimmo Bay (a wilderness lodge on the coast of British Columbia). I mentioned to her at dinner one night that I loved Riesling from Alsace. So did she. The very next day, Claire whipped up an all-Riesling tasting in the forest beside the water’s edge. As an homage to our setting, she poured Riesling exclusively from local producers such as Terravista and Pamplemousse Jus (great name). Canada’s wine import and export laws are strict and complex, though, so most of these wines stay inside the country. (All the more reason for you to go to Nimmo Bay.)
But back to Riesling from Alsace. Unlike its popular neighbor, Germany, where Rieslings span a wide range of sweetness and are typically lighter-bodied with pure, delicate fruit notes, Alsatian Rieslings are usually dry, with a medium to full body and a profile that’s often described as having minerality and giving notes of gunflint and white flowers. A little savory, a little herbal. “With the turn of the seasons, I look forward to drinking whites that have body and texture, and Alsatian Rieslings are my favorite for this,” Claire explains.
Dry Sherry
Half of the reason I love orange wine so much is that it’s often the medium through which I discover new grape varieties, agricultural techniques, and approaches to making wine. As it happens, Sherry ticks all of those boxes. On the first day of my visit to Jerez a few years ago (where Sherry is made exclusively), the oppressive heat during my first outdoor lunch had me longing for an ice-cold glass of, I don’t know, anything but fortified wine. Nevertheless, a glass of Fino Sherry arrived at my table, and I’ve never been the same since. Dry as a bone, saline, and giving notes of almonds, herbs, bread, and citrus, it was precisely what I needed.
“I think that Sherry is such an underrated product in North America,” Claire says (of course she loves Sherry, too), adding: “There is such a variety of styles and flavor profiles.” Indeed. While Sherry is often associated with grandmas who have a penchant for cloyingly sweet sips, the reality is, most of the best Sherry is dry—including Fino, Manzanilla, Amontillado, Oloroso, and Palo Cortado. All of these expressions are distinct and thrilling to introduce to an orange-wine-lover’s palate. (My recommendation is to find a bar with a robust Sherry menu and let them walk you through each.)
Cyder
Up until recently (as in, last month) I rarely dabbled in hard cider. With an indifference toward apples as a fruit and preoccupied with wine as a beverage, when I arrived at The Newt in Somerset last month—extremely well-known for its orchards—their cyder program blew me out of the water. (They spell it with a ‘y’ as a nod to the traditional spelling, and as a way to differentiate its artisanal, high-quality value.) “When care and attention is put into making cyder, and only using 100% freshly pressed apple juice, the processes are almost identical to that of winemaking, and so is the result,” Luke Benson tells me, who’s the cellar master on property.
He handed me a glass of their Wyvern Wing. If I hadn’t been at a cyder tasting, I would’ve guessed it was a pét-nat. “With its bright acidity and citrus notes, it’s easily comparable to that of a Riesling or Vinho Verde,” Luke says. For something more along the lines of a skin-contact wine, he suggests their Dabinett. “Even though it’s lightly carbonated, the strong tannins found in Dabinett apples closely resemble that of orange wine.” And just like wine, you can pair these cyders with all sorts of food, from soft cheese to fillets of beef.
Swartland Whites
Earlier this summer, I was fortunate enough to find myself on a cliff s edge in Kruger National Park, sipping South African wines and watching the sunset with my Singita Sweni safari guides, Walter and Floyd. Prior to the journey, my awareness of South African wines was more or less limited to Stellenbosch (the country’s all-star wine capital). But less than an hour north of there, a new wave of rebellious winemakers has set up shop in a bourgeoning wine destination. “Swartland has unanimously captured the interest of the wine world, and right now, some of the most sought-after wines are coming from this region,” Sartina Mathebula tells me. (She’s the junior wine sommelier at the Singita Sweni and Lembobo lodges, and a wealth of wine knowledge).
Sartina explains that single varietal wines still dominate the white wine scene, but that some of the best white wines are Cape blends driven by Chenin Blanc and Rhône varieties like Roussanne. “These wines offer a beautiful balance of fruit density along with savory florality,” she says. Also of note in Swartland: the old-vine Chenin Blanc wines, including those made by South African wine pioneer, Chris Mullineux.
Vostilidi
When one goes to France, they expect to drink French wine. And indeed I did, when this past summer I spent a weekend at Hôtel Belles Rives in Juan-les-Pins. (Side note: also the former home of F. Scott Fitzgerald!) But by the end of my dinner at the property’s Michelin-starred restaurant, La Passagère, I had quaffed wines well beyond the country’s borders: Zibibbo from Pantelleria, Biancolella from Ischia, and Assyrtico from Santorini, to name a few.
Suffice it to say, the team takes great care to deliver the most compelling and diverse wine list in Cap d’Antibes. One such wine on their list is from a little-known ancient Greek grape called Vostilidi. “This wine comes from Kefalonia and gives an ‘orange’ feeling even with little or no skin contact,” the restaurant’s head sommelier Aymerick Verdy tells me. I had tasted Kefalonia’s most famous grape variety—Robola—on a visit to the island the year prior, but Vostilidi is a rare, in-the-know pour that’s worth hunting down in your local bottle shop.
Champagne de Vigneron
Of course, being the sommelier at a restaurant on the French Riviera, Aymerick also suggests a wine from France. “In autumn and winter, with venison, mushrooms, truffle, and rich sauces, we like Champagne de Vigneron (very small producers),” he tells me. “More body, fewer bubbles, golden color, complex nose, and very long in the mouth.”
This is not a festive aperitif, Aymerick explains, but a full-bodied Champagne with density that can pair a whole dinner, including tasty meats. Champagne with a high proportion of Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier tends to be richer and fuller-bodied than those that are Chardonnay-dominant. A couple of his favorite grower Champagne bottles include Benoît Lahaye from Montagne de Reims—Pinot Noir base—and Françoise Bedel from Vallée de la Marne—Pinot Meunier base.
